Category Archives: Doc



It’s Saturday. I haven’t blogged in a while and, if I had more time (duh), you’d be able to see why.

We’ve finished up our first competitive cheer season, Doc is trying to beat CR7’s goal-scoring record this year in *cough* first kick rec soccer, and The Boy is trying to set a record for the number of times he can bang his face on the ground, into the lip of a table, or corner of a bookcase in a single month. Coach is finished with soccer season and has moved full-on into yearbook (which means he’s busy covering every sport, concert, play, and awards dinner at THS). Work is work for me. I love it. Busy, busy, busy. They keep giving me things to do so I’ll take that as a good sign.

I have been feeling the urge to reorganize, purge, and simplify our belongings (again). Realizing the reality is that we probably won’t try and move this year, all the STUFF in this house is making me crazy.

I want to redecorate the Boy’s room. It doesn’t really say anything now that I’ve taken his sports stuff out of his crib. I think we’re doing race cars, but I just haven’t had the time.

*sidenote* I’m writing on Coach’s mac (#love), but I’ve gotten used to my Surface and so now I keep touching the screen. */sidenote* HA.

Doc & Munchkin (can I still call an almost 13-year old “munchkin”?) (and, @sarah, is it more correct to put the punctuation inside the “” or outside, since the “” was to designate a name, not a quote?)

What was I saying?

This is my life. I can’t keep a !@#($% thought in my head for longer than about :25 seconds. So, you see why blogging has been such a hit or miss thing this year. I want to. My life would make a great sitcom. My children are hilarious and I really should be writing this down because [in my most obnoxious, patronizing voice] “they won’t be little forever.” (see, I know I used it correctly there.)

And it’s not all fun and games. There are things I want/need to pour out so I get them out of my head, but I open up the page to write and stare at a blank screen. And then life intrudes and demands my attention. So, in my head these thoughts stay.

Speaking of. The Boy just poured a cup of cinnamon toast crunch out on the kitchen floor. Because 18 months, you know?

Excuse me while I go back to the mess.





At any given time, you are bossing somebody around. Especially your big sister.

You have a steely determined look that says, “Do you feel lucky, Punk?”

Your laugh is the best music in the world. Thankfully, it’s a song that plays a lot.

You make me laugh and that’s probably saved your life a few times. (just kidding) (kinda)

You insist that Bunny is excluded from pictures because “he’s old.”

You have the facial expressions and gestures of an adult. It’s kind of weird, but oh so hilarious.

The fact that I have to be a tyrant to brush your hair is ridiculous.

I have no doubt you have big things in store for you, kiddo. Inside that brilliant little mind is the cure for cancer, the solution to Middle East strife, and maybe even the proper way to tie a knot.

You eat all. the. time.

Your spontaneous bursts of affection are absolutely the best part of any day with you.

I cannot believe it’s already been four years. You can’t really be princess crybaby any more. You aren’t a baby. So…henceforth, you will be known as Doc. Because they are bossy. In a good way. And so are you.


Happy birthday, Doc. Daddy and I love you to the moon and back.